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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24904951">A Bad Day</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/isnt_that_wizard/pseuds/isnt_that_wizard'>isnt_that_wizard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Addiction recovery, Bad Days, Drug Addiction, Established Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Love, M/M, TK Strand Needs A Hug, Trust, carlos reyes is a good boyfriend, rated teen for talks of drug use/abuse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:07:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,032</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24904951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/isnt_that_wizard/pseuds/isnt_that_wizard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>TK was having a bad day. </p>
<p>Carlos could see the signs all day. TK had drunk four cups of coffee before Carlos finally managed to cut him off. He was quieter than normal, jumpy and couldn’t seem to settle down. He picked at his food, and he buried himself into the sweatshirt he’d stolen from Carlos’ closet, pressing into Carlos’ side whether they were in the kitchen, on the couch, or in Carlos’ bedroom.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carlos Reyes/TK Strand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>328</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Bad Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Carlos knew that TK was having a bad day. He could tell from the moment he woke up, alone in bed. TK had never, in the entire time they’d known each other, been a morning person. The alarm always rang three times before TK finally pulled himself out of bed, and it usually also required some form of incentive from Carlos to keep him awake. Carlos didn’t think he’d ever, in the six months they had now been officially dating, woken up </span>
  <em>
    <span>after </span>
  </em>
  <span>TK. It was a sign to the officer that TK likely hadn’t slept at all, which meant TK was having a bad day. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t uncommon for the firefighter; TK had told Carlos when they first got together that there were days he shut down, barely talking, not wanting to get out of bed, or had a short temper. He told Carlos this, TK had also said, in case the cop wanted to change his mind about going into this with TK. Carlos had simply kissed him in response. Carlos had seen depression, anxiety, and so much more in coworkers, friends, and victims. Every case was different, he knew, but it wasn’t going to deter him. He wanted to be there for TK, help him when he could, and support him in the unconditional way he deserved. He had helped, or at least tried to help, TK through a series of bad days since they started dating. It wasn’t always easy; usually one or both of them ended up having to work through it, but they were both trying. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They both had the day off today, though, which made it even more unusual for Carlos to wake up in bed alone when he knew TK had been there when they’d gone to sleep. Even if he hadn’t, Carlos could see the signs all day. TK had drunk four cups of coffee before Carlos finally managed to cut him off. He was quieter than normal, jumpy and couldn’t seem to settle down. He picked at his food, and he buried himself into the sweatshirt he’d stolen from Carlos’ closet, pressing into Carlos’ side whether they were in the kitchen, on the couch, or in Carlos’ bedroom. Carlos didn’t try to push him into talking or doing anything other than what he knew made his boyfriend more comfortable; TK would talk if he wanted or needed to. Instead, he put on a movie he knew his boyfriend enjoyed, he made him something light to eat, and pressed intermittent kisses to TK’s cheek or hair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was midafternoon now, and TK had gotten up and headed down the hallway towards the bathroom and bedroom about eight minutes ago. Carlos had stayed on the couch, waiting for his boyfriend to return. It was the longest TK had been away from him all day, and Carlos couldn’t help but bite his lip in concern. He wasn’t sure where TK had gone- he’d gotten up without saying anything- and he knew that bad days were made worse if TK was by himself. Just as Carlos was about to get up and check to at least see where TK was, however, his boyfriend came swiftly back down the hall. Carlos could see a frazzled look in his boyfriend’s eyes, and his hair looked as though he’d been running his hands through it. AS he opened his mouth to speak, maybe to ask if TK was okay, the firefighter began pacing quickly in front of the couch, on the other side of the coffee table. Carlos’ eyes trailed as his boyfriend went back and forth in front of him, frowning with confusion and concern. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“TK?” Carlos said quietly, not wanting to shock the firefighter, just in case. TK just kept pacing, just out of his reach, and Carlos could spy how he was clenching his fists. It was one of his panic signs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“TK, baby, you don’t have to stop moving, you don’t have to let me touch you or anything you don’t want, but- Baby, please, tell me what’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>TK was a sucker for pet names, Carlos had learned over the past half year. Anything in Spanish was a good way to get TK’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>attention</span>
  </em>
  <span>, “honey” or “sweetheart” was reserved for when they were being romantic, but “baby” always seemed to be TK’s favorite. It made him smile, or melt under Carlos’ touch, or helped calm him down. It didn’t seem to be working for him this time, though. TK’s pacing, hand clenching, and frantic look didn’t go away. It did, however, get TK to look at him, opening and closing his mouth as he seemed to try and form words. Carlos waited, as patiently as he could, and eventually, TK stopped moving and turned to face him. Carlos was now seated on the edge of the couch, ready to stand up if TK needed him, but staying down to try and keep TK as calm as possible. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Carlos had helped TK through more panic attacks than he liked, and he didn’t want to push his boyfriend into another one. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just-” TK started, before looking away from Carlos, frustration and what looked like embarrassment setting his jaw tense. TK shoved both hands in his pocket, coming out with his keys, cell phone, and wallet. Carlos frowned in confusion as TK hesitantly held them out to him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, TK-” he started to form a question, but a huff from TK and the look of wetness in his eyes cut him off. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you- I just. I need you to hold on to these. Please.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Carlos was silent as he took them from TK’s hands, depositing them into his own pockets. As he did, he realized what TK was asking of him. Really, he should have known. He was a cop, and he was TK’s boyfriend. And he knew it was a bad day, but it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad </span>
  </em>
  <span>day. TK was an addict. During rehab and meetings, addicts were told that sometimes, if they felt an urge to use, it was helpful to give anything tempting- money to buy, keys to drive, a phone to text, call, or make online transactions- to someone you trusted. Cutting off your access by giving them to someone who wouldn’t allow you to get to them could help prevent a relapse. It hit Carlos like a sledgehammer to feel the amount of trust TK was putting in him right now. He wasn’t even sure what to say. He was saved from it, though, as TK moved around the coffee table and sat next to him. TK sat close enough that either could easily reach out, but there was still space between them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When I got up earlier,” TK started, “I didn’t- All I could think about was finding someone to buy from. And I should have just told you, I know that, but I already had my keys in my hand before I realized what I was doing. I’m so sorry, Carlos, I-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Ty, no. You have nothing to apologize for, okay? You’re still here, you’re safe, and you were able to stop yourself. You are so strong for doing that. Not many addicts, in recovery or not, can say that. You’re doing so good, baby.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>TK was crying silently now, shaking his head at Carlos’ words. “But I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Carlos. I wanted to use, I still want to use. And I- I </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate </span>
  </em>
  <span>myself for it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Carlos’ heart panged with hurt for his boyfriend. TK always seemed so confident and cocky when he was out in public, he was a show of strength out on calls, and he had a smile that could blind anyone who met him. Carlos knew part of it all was the mask he put on for everyone else. Part of him was happy that TK trusted him enough to let him see this side of him, but he hated that his boyfriend ever had to feel anything other than happiness. The tears in TK’s eyes caused some to form in Carlos’ own. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“TK, can I- can I touch you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>TK nodded as he cried, and Carlos didn’t hesitate to scoot closer, pulling TK into his arms. He held him tight enough that it put the pressure that he knew TK would need, but light enough that TK could pull away if he needed to. TK leaned into him, though, collapsing his head on his shoulder as he cried. Carlos clenched his jaw to stop himself from echoing TK’s sobs, focusing his actions on rubbing a hand up and down TK’s back to comfort him. He hadn’t been lying when he told TK he was strong; he was the strongest person Carlos knew. He had managed to shoulder so much during his lifetime- his father’s divided attention after 9/11, his parents’ divorce, an addiction, depression and anxiety, an unhealthy relationship, getting shot, and his father’s cancer. Everything TK did, every action he took, showed Carlos unimaginable strength. And TK still managed to carry himself with a smile, had become one of the most kind and caring people Carlos had ever met. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Carlos knew that nothing he could say would make TK feel better right now and that his boyfriend just needed him here with him, to cry it out until he remembered that he was more than just this addiction. He wasn’t sure how long the two of them sat there, letting salty tears trail lines down their cheeks. Eventually, though, TK’s cries subsided and his body went more relaxed in Carlos’ arms. TK didn’t move away from him, though, just turned his head up so he could look at him better. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” TK let out, meek and quiet, “I’ve never given my stuff to anyone but my dad. He always- I mean, he understood, you know? Understood that I was trying, or reaching out for help. Never judged me, never gave in or got angry at me, even when I was screaming at him to give them back. My mom or- or Alex, they didn’t trust me. So I didn’t trust them. I only ever gave them to my dad.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This was probably the most TK had said to him all day, and Carlos wasn’t even sure how to respond. TK kept going.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know that me telling you that sounds like I only gave them to you because my dad’s on shift and I can’t get to him, but it’s not. I trust you, Carlos. You make me feel safe, and comfortable, and happy in ways barely anyone in my life ever has. I just- I wanna say thanks, I guess. For being here for me all the time, for not giving up on me these past six months.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Carlos tightened his grip around TK, pressing his face into his boyfriend’s hair. “Never, baby. I’m never giving up on you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The words “I love you” are right on his lips- he’d been thinking them for weeks now- but he swallows it back. This isn’t the time. TK is still having an awful day, is still anxious and jumpy in his arms, and he was so close to leaving Carlos’ place, so close to relapsing. TK wasn’t in the mindset for Carlos to blurt out his feelings for him right now. He needed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>it, to experience the comfort and support. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They spent the rest of the day like that, tucked up together on the couch. They only ever moved for food or the bathroom, and even then, they stuck close by each other. Carlos continued to hold TK when he cried again later, held his hands when they subconsciously started reaching for Carlos’ pockets like he was planning on taking his stuff back, pressed kisses to his cheek, and whispered intermittently into TK’s ear that he was strong, and good, and that Carlos was here for him no matter what.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a bad day for TK. It likely wouldn’t be good tomorrow either. He was fidgety and anxious and exhausted. But he was here and safe, where Carlos could see him and take care of him. TK was safe, and really, what more could Carlos ask for?</span>
</p>
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